Boldness
by Carolina Nadeau
Summary: After a month of marriage to her loving and passionate husband Harold Hill, Marian is still discovering more and more about the depths of her own passion – and she's determined to learn how to express every one of her desires, no matter how bold.


_Happy belated birthday and early Christmas to the incomparable Marianne Greenleaf! Hope you enjoy :)_

_The inspiration behind this story was twofold – it is a direct prequel to Words, and also, a distant thematic prequel/foil to All That Jazz. _

xxx

Contrary to what had once been the prevailing belief in River City, Marian Paroo was not a seductress.

While she was being accused of the vilest kind of seduction and ostracized for her wicked, shameless behavior, Marian had never shared so much as an innocent sweetheart's kiss with a boy of her own age group, never mind some torrid yet cold-hearted affair with the man who saw her as a beloved niece, and she as an uncle. Really, there had been more cause for an actual scandal among some of those who had been her accusers – a few of her peers who'd turned their nose up at her after she'd become close to Mr. Madison had been the very ones sneaking away from dances to clandestine rendezvous during their teenage years, while Marian had been too immersed in her books and her dreams to feel the slightest interest in the prosaic boys who surrounded them.

But, ironically, it was probably that same disinterest that had made her an easy target for the gossips' small-minded suspicions – it made no sense to them that one of the prettiest girls in town should be forever without a sweetheart, unless, perhaps, she had set her cap for somebody unattainable in the traditional sense. (And, in fact, she had, but he was unattainable only because he did not exist, or rather, because she had yet to meet him – her white knight, her _someone_, who would love her with the certainty, intensity, and maturity that none of those young boys possessed, and she would wait as long as she had to until she could find a love like that.)

But that loneliness was all far behind her now – or, at least, it _felt _far behind, though it had been only half a year since Harold Hill had strolled in and changed everything about River City, and, best of all, come to love Marian as deeply and truly as she had always yearned to be loved.

And Marian Paroo _Hill_, supremely contented wife and one of the most respected personages in the community, was now discovering that she _wanted_ to be a seductress – though for no man other than her husband, of course!

The librarian had only been married to her beloved music professor for a month, but she'd quickly found that she absolutely loved being his wife, and all that entailed. Making love with him was wonderful beyond all of her most secret longings – but she was also beginning to realize that something was missing. Nothing that was her husband's fault, of course. He brought her bliss that surpassed comprehension and took immense joy in doing so, and, though she had no way of knowing what lovemaking was like for most women, based on the rather dour and severe pronouncements on the subject that she'd found in certain manuals written for young brides, Marian rather suspected that Harold was every bit as rare and extraordinary of a lover as he believed himself to be!

No, what was missing was the courage to act on her own desires when they arose – and she was realizing that she was absolutely brimming with them.

In the very beginning, the librarian had subconsciously convinced herself of a certain conventional narrative – that as a man, and an intensely passionate one at that, Harold craved their lovemaking with a fervor too powerful for a woman to understand, so it should be expected that he would seek to initiate it more often.

But whenever her reasoning took that direction, it took only a moment or two of thinking to remind herself that that wasn't true, not at all. Maybe it _had_ been before they were wed, when only Harold knew what they were missing out on and Marian still looked forward to the consummation of their love with anxiety as well as excitement, but their wedding night had been enough to remove any apprehension on her part – though it hardly made them equal in experience and confidence, she was nearly certain that now they were equal in desire. Before their marriage, her longing for him had been a sort of vague ache, but now it was a fire within her, fierce and bright and impossible to ignore. From the first moment he'd touched her intimately, it was as if she'd acquired a new kind of need that tugged at her mind just as insistently as hunger or thirst.

At first, it _had_ been almost frightening how much she loved this new aspect of their relationship, how she was willing to throw her whole self into their lovemaking, and Marian couldn't help but be haunted by that same reflexive concern that it was wrong that had troubled her during their engagement – but he assured her every single time that she couldn't possibly be _too_ enthusiastic.

Yet it had really been a relief to her that Harold was a confident enough lover to take complete control. She couldn't have possibly known what to do, and his initiative gave her permission to give in and enjoy herself without having to worry too much about how to perform.

It was understandable that it should take her a while to become accustomed to the depth of her own passions – after all, in the first days of their honeymoon, her natural reactions to moan and cry out under his ministrations, to pull him hungrily closer for more and move her hips to meet his, had seemed terribly embarrassing when she'd first discovered them, but Harold had been thrilled, had told her that he'd never imagined anything more erotic in his life. So by now, Marian had grown much more comfortable with the way she reacted when he made love to her.

But she was vividly aware now that _reacting_, responding, submitting, was only half of what she was capable of. Now, she'd gained a little burst of confidence in herself, a little boldness – and she had no idea what to do with it.

Yes, her husband was always the one to initiate their trysts, but a good amount of the time, she was waiting desperately for him to do so! There were times when she grew a little frustrated because she was brimming over with desire and just didn't know how to make him _see _it. But she'd developed a sort of secret language for herself, little cues that could get him thinking in the right direction – a skill that she'd actually began to develop on their wedding night, when she'd grown tired of his extreme caution and figured out what she could say and do so that Harold would understand that he had her full, enthusiastic permission to make love to her for the first time.

Maybe they'd be sitting on opposite ends of the sofa in the evening, reading, when he'd suddenly lower his newspaper to turn to look at her, and her heart would leap in excitement, wondering if he was going to throw the paper aside and take her in his arms... and then he didn't, and she'd almost sigh aloud in disappointment. So she could cuddle up a little closer to him, lean her cheek against his shoulder, catch his eye for a long, meaningful glance, and _then_ he understood.

It didn't really take much to convince him – a tug on his shirt when he got up to leave their bed in the morning, a kiss that she prolonged insistently when he seemed about to pull away. It was just that Marian didn't always want to _convince_ him, didn't always want to coyly goad him into taking her into his arms. She wanted to take him into _her _arms – she wanted to seduce him, whatever that might entail.

Her first attempt at full-scale seduction of Harold had taken place when she woke up before him one Sunday morning. Reclining lazily in the softness of their bed that enfolded her and guarded her from the winter cold, not nearly ready to get up just yet, Marian's first impulse would have been to simply close her eyes and drift off to sleep again – but then her eyes settled on the man who slept beside her, and closing them seemed to be such a waste.

There was something so peaceful and innocent about his expression as he slept – she almost laughed to think that she could have thought of the word "innocent" to describe Harold Hill! Maybe "boyish" would be a better term, because there was still a hint of charming mischief in the slight smile that adorned his sleeping face. And his hair was messy, dark curls tumbling all across his forehead – both from resting against the pillow _and_ from the delightful activities of the previous evening, Marian realized, her cheeks flushing a little even though there was nobody to see.

Her first impulse was to kiss him, and she made up her mind to follow it – there was no risk of looking foolish, not when she approached him in his sleep like this, and he would surely be delighted to be woken in such a manner.

She pressed her lips to his lightly at first, placing the softest of kisses against his lips as she slipped her hands into the unbuttoned collar of his nightshirt to trace abstract patterns across his broad chest, luxuriating in his warm skin and soft hair and the strong beat of his heart beneath her hands.

Those initial caresses evidently not being enough to wake him, Marian decided to be a little bolder in her approach, and she nestled even closer, daring to hitch one leg around his waist – but as she fitted her body snugly against his, she was startled to feel that he was hard. Drawing back to see if she'd managed to awaken him after all, the librarian searched his face, looking for some sign that he was feigning his continued slumber, but she saw no sign of a repressed grin or eyes shut too tightly.

Certainly, she'd known her husband to be aroused right upon waking, but that was the key difference – _waking_. If he was truly still asleep, had she still been able to affect him in this way? Or was there some other reason – maybe Harold hadn't been joking as much as she thought he had when he'd teased her about men waking up that way without any particular cause.

But, more than confusion, Marian was overwhelmed by desire. She rested her hand on his abdomen, her heart pounding and body growing warm at the idea of trailing it lower. She could awaken him not with kisses, but with pleasure, and she could just imagine how happy he would be to wake up and see that she had taken such initiative – and yet she also found that she suddenly could not will her hands to move.

She had touched him there before, of course, but never before he had already touched her equally as intimately. And, more importantly, she'd also been very careful not to _look _too much as she did so. Now she was realizing that she wanted very much to observe and explore _all_ of him, and not out of curiosity, but out of the same sheer lust that she felt for the rest of his body. That thought was simultaneously exciting and frightening to her – why should a woman take such a powerful interest in _that_ part of her husband? Why wasn't she more embarrassed or appalled by the sorts of thoughts she was having? This was all so unlike her, although she was also becoming aware that it was not actually unlike her at all...

Before she had a chance to reconsider her actions further, the music professor stirred and opened his eyes, grinning to see her so close to him.

"Mmm, good morning, Madam Librarian," he murmured, pulling her close and placing a few ardent love bites in the crook of her neck. "What an awfully nice way to wake up – I almost thought you were a dream."

Sinking his fingers into her hair and inclining her head toward his, he returned every one of the kisses that she'd bestowed upon his sleeping lips with increasing fervor, and, as she melted into his embrace, Marian felt herself rapidly becoming the seduced instead of the seductress. And for the time being, that was just fine. Harold eagerly rolled her beneath him, and, in their cozy Sunday-morning nest of blankets, brought his wife every possible ecstasy as she urged him on to his own.

In this manner, they almost made themselves late for church, and she was a blushing mess all through the service, still feeling the pleasant dull ache of new love bites on her neck and collarbone and inner thighs. During the slow moments, he shot her a sly glance or two, and she raised an eyebrow back at him in mild reproof that quickly turned to teasing.

_He deserves to know how it feels to sit here just like this! _she mused – though upon further reflection, she figured that he'd probably delight in it. And, truth be told, she delighted in it secretly as well...

All day long, she toyed with the idea of enacting her plan when they got home and inevitably made love again, but when they actually did, she once again lost her nerve and allowed him to take the lead. The librarian could hardly complain about a day spent in such an absolutely blissful manner, and it pleased her that she had been the one to start it – but, she had to admit, it had not been the seduction she was envisioning.

It was then that Marian realized that she could not do this by half-measures, at least, not the first time. To ensure that she did not falter again, she would have to toss aside any notions of maidenly modesty, any worries about her lack of experience, and any fears of appearing unladylike. She would have to provide an unmistakable seduction, where her role in the proceedings could not possibly be reversed by a heated kiss or two – she would have to allow herself to embody all of those desires that she'd buried deep in favor of waiting shyly for him to approach her.

Her most immediate concern was that Harold would find such a display undesirable from the woman that he'd been quite specific that he loved _because _she was no sadder-but-wiser girl. Perhaps he liked that she was reticent and modest in the bedroom; perhaps it proved that she was somehow more worthy of his love than the easy women of his past...

But though Marian was still unsure about a lot of things when it came to their new intimacy, she was _certain_ that her husband subscribed to no such insulting notions about female desire and the role of women. And those little jokes and sly insinuations he'd made – like on Christmas Eve, when he mused that maybe she might like to "have her way with him" – implied that he was ready and eager to encourage any adventurous inclinations she might be developing. Harold would want this, she was sure.

Christmas Eve had been the night that he had first taught her what it was like to make love astride him, and Marian had found it exhilarating to learn how to set the pace of their lovemaking, to have such control over what her husband felt and experienced. But every time they made love that way, it had still been Harold who maneuvered them into that position and who guided her along, so she had yet to truly "have her way with him" in the way that they both desired. When she thought about that, she realized that he must have been waiting breathlessly for her to let go and do something truly daring.

Really, the only thing that was holding her back now was just her own self-conscious worry about looking like a fool. Because really, what was she supposed to _do_? She could hardly just run across the room and pounce on him like a wild animal. When she envisioned the scenario, Marian could picture a woman who looked just like her seducing him, but in reality, she was inexperienced, clumsy, blushing. Even if she figured out how she ought to behave, she'd probably just end up laughing nervously in the middle of it!

After much consideration, she had a new plan in mind to try and ease herself into that seductive mindset – she was going to try behaving as Harold would. He asserted himself, he made no secret of when he wanted her or when his desire was especially keen, and that would be Marian's new resolve. She would be bold; she _would _learn how to make herself the seductress that she felt like on the inside.

xxx

She found that each day was filled with little opportunities to learn boldness.

One morning a few days later, after they'd eaten breakfast and were getting dressed and ready to leave for work, she'd been passing by the washroom door when she caught a glimpse of him standing at the sink, and she found herself too distracted to continue down the hall.

He was shaving, a sight that Marian still found amusing and intriguing. In the first few days after their wedding, she'd watched him do so with fascination, charmed by the domestic intimacy of witnessing such a private moment.

Today, though, it wasn't just domesticity that sent warmth flooding through her body. Instead, she was finding herself struck by the beauty of his bare torso, and quite suddenly she found that she wanted nothing more in the world than to touch him.

The librarian stopped still, weighing her options, considering – what would _he _have done if he'd caught a tantalizing glimpse of her doing something enticing? She thought of the times when he'd come into their bedroom when she'd been unpinning and brushing out her hair. He simply strolled right in and watched her with ardent eyes, wanting her to know that he was looking... and once he couldn't bear to merely stand by and watch anymore, he'd come to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair before brushing it aside so he could trail little nibbling kisses along her neck.

Marian gladly allowed her body to be something open and available to him, something to explore, and she supposed that her husband was open to her in the same way when they made love. But she hadn't taken advantage of it, instead resigning herself to blushing little touches and trying not to look for too long, even when she wanted so much more. She was done with denying her nature – she was going to be bold.

Her mind made up, Marian delicately pushed the washroom door open with the very tips of her fingers and slipped inside, padding lightly along the cold tiles and breathing in the spicy, clean scents of his soap and shaving cream.

As soon as he realized she was there, Harold cast a curious glance over at her. "What are you doing?"

"Just – just watching you," the librarian answered softly.

Urging herself to be bolder than she'd ever felt comfortable being, she drew closer, drinking him in with her eyes. He was such a beautiful man – _her _beautiful man.

She'd inquired once, half-teasingly, how a man who'd spent the better part of his life without doing an honest day's work could be so strong and so fit. After all, many farmers who lived their whole lives by the sweat of their brows were scrawnier than him! For this, Harold had credited his many years spent playing sports as a boy, and the short period in his young adulthood when he'd worked odd jobs before discovering his talent for sales. But that had all been so long ago that it couldn't have been the sole cause of his physique; much of it must have simply been natural as his handsomeness.

With a smile that was a little more bashful than she would have liked, she reached out and placed a hand on his broad shoulder. Her husband chuckled softly, but otherwise continued what he was doing, leaning down to splash water on his face and rinse off the remaining shaving cream.

Following her every impulse – just as he would have done – Marian slowly walked around him and ran her both hands along the planes of his muscles, the subtle hills and valleys of his body. Ever since their wedding night, she'd been in awe of his body and how beautiful it was to her. She'd always thought that the way a man looked anywhere but his face would prove rather inconsequential to her attraction, but goodness, what a bit of maidenly foolishness that had been! She never could have imagined a man who made her feel the way Harold Hill did – particularly Harold Hill without his clothing...

When she was standing behind him, she leaned forward, lightly brushing her lips to his back, to the wing-like structure of muscle and bone just below his shoulder. A shiver ran through his body, and Marian smiled against his skin to feel it.

"Still just watching?" he inquired wryly.

"_Enjoying_," the librarian amended. Taking a step so she was beside him, she stood up on tiptoes, pressing the lightest of kisses to his cheek, breathing him in. "Your skin smells so good right after you shave – and it's so soft and smooth. It's the sort of thing only a wife gets to feel."

After he putting on a splash of aftershave – another scent of his that Marian delighted in – he turned to her with a self-deprecating grin. "Yes, but it's only since you've become my wife that you've had to put up with me kissing you with stubble all over my face, too."

"I don't mind it. I mean, I _mind_ it" – she laughed, crinkling her nose just at the remembered sensation of his stubble tickling her face and neck – "but it makes me happy, too, because it comes along with waking up in your arms."

One more step and she was right in front of him. Gazing up at her husband with laughter dancing in her eyes, she walked her fingers lightly up his chest, teasing and tickling him – and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fully and deeply. For a moment, he seemed startled at her forwardness, but he swiftly caught his bearings and returned her embrace.

Those strong arms that she'd so admired moments before felt even better wrapped around her. She felt warm and safe, loved and protected – and then _desired_, when moments later he backed her against the bathroom vanity and pressed his hips against hers.

Only thin layers of fabric separated his insistent hardness from her most sensitive areas, and she gasped and writhed against him, seeking closer contact. It was exquisite torture, feeling him stir up just the barest hints of her pleasure – she was desperate for more. She knew she shouldn't be goading him on right now, that this embrace could not lead to anything more when they needed to leave the house within the half hour, but it was remarkable how those concerns could drift to the back of one's mind at the prospect of such intense pleasure.

"Oh, sweetheart," he groaned huskily into her ear. "If only we had the time, I'd make such love to you right now. Maybe we could _make_ time – we could be quick about it – "

"We _can't_." But even as she spoke, she tugged at his hips frantically, pressing him more firmly against her, her body craving him so fiercely that the objections of her mind grew weak.

They were a mere few steps down the hall from their bedroom, and it would have been so easy for them to tumble directly onto the bed together – in mere _moments_, she could have him pushing exquisitely inside her, and the thought almost knocked the breath out of her.

However, Marian still retained enough sense to realize that this was a terribly unwise and irresponsible idea. While she was willing to let her husband make her late for quite a few things when they were caught up in a moment of passion, work was simply not one of them. No matter what promises he tried to make, it wasn't in his nature to do this sort of thing _quickly_ – and certainly not when he was this worked up. When it came to lovemaking, Harold Hill enjoyed being very... thorough. Once he had her in bed, it was unlikely that either one of them would be going anywhere until, at least for the time being, he was too exhausted to pleasure her any further.

_That_ thought made Marian tingle and shiver all over again, and the closeness of his body and the incessant caresses of his lips and tongue upon her neck were not helping matters. If one of them did not muster up some self-control and step away very soon, the librarian knew that she would be lost entirely, no matter how irresponsible it would be!

So, breaking their embrace, she stepped aside, shaking her head to clear it and smoothing down the front of her nightgown. "Oh, really, we can't now – I'm already running late, and I still have to do up my hair," she exclaimed, the words coming out all in one breath. "I have to be there early, it will set a terrible example for Miss Farrow if I'm not on time when it's only her first week – I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. You're right." He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "Somebody needed to put a stop to that."

"Yes," said Marian, her voice still wavering. "We're supposed to be getting dressed, not undressed!"

But, suddenly, she saw an opportunity in the midst of this disappointment. If she got ahold of herself quickly enough, she could make sure that she kept her husband off-balance all day long – and then tonight, at last, she would seduce him. Drawing in a deep breath, she stepped closer to him again.

"Listen, darling – I'll make it up to you tonight," she whispered in his ear, one hand slipping suggestively down his chest as she spoke. "I'll _more_ than make it up to you."

As she stepped back and went to leave, Harold turned to her in amazement, speechless – but the librarian startled him once again by quickly running her hand under the faucet and flicking droplets of cold water in his direction.

"For now, it'd be best for you to cool down, though, wouldn't it?" she teased.

"Hey!" he exclaimed laughingly, jumping backward with his arm held over his head. In a moment he'd recovered his bearings enough to strike back, wetting his hand and flicking water right back at her. But Marian was expecting such an attack, and she deftly dodged across the threshold.

Hands pressed against either side of the doorframe, she leaned in on the balls of her bare feet and gave her husband a saucy wink. "Fortunate for both of us that the weather is so cold now, isn't it?"

Before he had a chance to attempt to splash her again, Marian darted down the hall with a giggle, determined to resume her toilette in a much more efficient and responsible manner.

xxx

It _was_ a bitterly cold day, but even the icy winds and the snow that had begun falling by noontime were not enough to keep Marian's mind off matters that were highly inappropriate for work. The more that she tried _not_ to think about what she had in mind for Harold tonight, the more difficult it was to keep her thoughts pure. And there were _so _many impure thoughts concerning Harold vying to besiege her mind...

Deep down, she knew that it was ridiculous, but the librarian couldn't shake the fear that her patrons could see right through her, that they must have been able to determine the precise reason behind every moment of distraction or incongruous blush – for, as a quite newly-married woman, what _other_ subject could have her in such a dither? The idea that somebody might suspect her most private thoughts only led Marian to further blushing, which further exacerbated her worried of being found out.

And it didn't help that the new assistant librarian whom Marian was training had quite a nervous energy about her. Miss Anna Farrow seemed constantly nervous and terribly fearful of doing something wrong – Marian hoped that this was simply because she was in the first days of her new job. At the very least, she seemed to take her duties extremely seriously! Normally, Marian's calm and steady demeanor helped to anchor Anna's flightiness somewhat, but today, the librarian couldn't offer the least hope of stability.

In the early afternoon, while she sorted through a stack of books that had just been returned, Marian's mind had wandered exactly to where she hadn't wanted it to go, and she'd allowed herself to get caught up in thoughts of how Harold looked standing at the sink that morning, how it had felt when he had held and kissed and touched her, how tonight, she would finally teach herself to touch and please _him_ in any way that she desired...

Just when she'd gotten so distracted that she was staring vacantly at the inside cover of a book, a soft, hesitant whisper cut through her reverie: "Miss Marian?"

Marian started and reflexively reached for her stamp, but knocked it over onto the floor in her haste, drawing even more attention to herself and making herself blush like a fool.

The librarian whispered a grateful, yet embarrassed, word of thanks to young Ronald Jeakins, who'd been swift enough to catch the stamp and return it to her before it rolled too far, and turned back to her assistant, standing up straight and prim and trying to look like a woman competent enough to run a library.

"Yes, Miss Farrow?" she asked placidly, as if the events of the past ten seconds had simply not taken place.

Furiously smoothing back her copper-colored tresses out of nervous habit, Miss Farrow stepped back slightly, a sheepish smile on her face. "I'm very sorry to startle you, Miss Marian," she whispered. "I was just wondering if you'd explain again how the sciences are organized..."

That had been the worst incident of the day, but it was not the only one – a little later, for instance, Marian had very nearly stamped Gracie Shinn's hand instead of the book she'd been holding open. When all was said and done, Marian was greatly relieved when the patrons departed and it was time to close up the library – and, although it was always disappointing not to see him during the day, it was probably for the best that the snow and ice on the streets had made it unwise for Harold to visit the library during his lunch break. The librarian could only imagine the effect that actually _seeing_ him would have had upon her fantasy-addled mind!

xxx

When she did see her dear husband again at last, Marian was in the middle of cooking dinner, and, though she greeted him at the door with an ardent kiss, practical concerns took precedent over the fulfillment of her heated promise for quite some time.

Though the storm had passed by the evening, enough snow had accumulated that Harold had to go outside after dinner to clear the front walk. It made Marian feel rather guilty to see her husband laboring outside while she had the time to bathe, read and relax – of course, she did have her fair share of tasks to complete around the house as well, but her poor Harold was the one out in the cold!

So, as she usually did when he'd been out in the snow, Marian did all she could to ensure his comfort upon returning indoors – she'd had a blanket and a cup of tea ready for him when he came in, and she'd drawn a hot bath for him to get into afterward. Initially, she'd decided that it would be best to postpone her plans for seduction until another time, when he would be less tired.

But as she considered the situation further, the librarian realized that making love to him might not be out of the question after all. As a matter of fact, the circumstances of this night might provide an excellent opportunity, provided that he wasn't too terribly fatigued. After all, seducing _her _was not likely to be foremost in his mind tonight, which would give her just the chance that she needed. And, from a practical standpoint, there seemed to be no better time to plan a seduction than while he was in the bath. For the time being, there was no chance of her being interrupted while she got ready. Then, in a short while, he was going to emerge into the bedroom nearly naked, not suspecting in the least that his wife would be in there, too, and _that_ would be her moment to pounce – in the figurative sense, of course!

Just walking by the door of the upstairs washroom made her stomach flip-flop and her heart start to beat faster. Harold was just a few steps away from her, naked and wet, and he was absentmindedly humming one of the band's new songs, his rich, low baritone echoing off the tile and reminding her of just how much she wanted to hear that same voice moaning in ecstasy... she was sorely tempted to simply step inside the washroom, let her robe fall to the floor, and join him in the bath. But, though such an act would certainly be in keeping with her desire to be bold, she also knew that it would derail her true plans for the evening – and she'd already taken a bath tonight, anyway, and she wasn't very fond of the idea of getting back in now, even when the bath _did _contain Harold! Thus determined, she continued down the hall to their bedroom.

While her husband bathed, Marian slipped into the green, clinging nightdress he'd given her for Christmas, brushed out her still-wet hair until it shone, and considered how she would most like to be found when he entered the room. But she'd given herself too much time to wait, and soon, for lack of anything else to do, she ended up curled up on her pillow with a book – only able to keep her ultimate purpose in mind because it would have been difficult to forget that she was so scantily clad!

When she heard the bathtub draining and Harold's footsteps on the floor, the librarian sprang into action at last. In these last few moments, she almost panicked trying to get everything perfectly right – she rearranged her arms, her legs, the draping of her nightdress over and over again. She finally settled on planting her hands on the mattress behind her and tucking her legs to the side, the gauzy fabric of her nightdress covering only the very tops of her thighs.

Hastily, Marian gave her hair a final toss over her shoulders and watched the door open, her heart racing. She wondered if he'd be able to tell that she'd managed to position herself at the very last moment – or maybe that wasn't a bad thing, because, after all, it would have been awfully silly for him to think she'd been reclining enticingly on the bed for minutes on end...

"Marian?" Harold exclaimed as he stopped still in the doorway, surprise and delight evident in his tone. But there was a hint of apprehension there, too, as if he weren't quite certain that he understood what was happening.

That moment of uncertainty was her chance – if she waited any longer, he'd collect himself, stride across the room, and sweep her into his arms, leaving her utterly spellbound beneath his caresses. That sounded perfectly wonderful, but tonight, Marian didn't want that to happen.

Unable to come up with anything else to say, she simply spoke the truth. "I've been thinking about you," she confessed, trying to sound as alluring as possible, making her voice a caress around each word. "Waiting for you. And... I almost couldn't wait." When he still made no move, she fluttered her fingers at him in a come-hither gesture – it felt a bit ridiculous, but she'd already determined not to let that stop her.

Harold slowly walked closer, his smile wavering in his amazement. "You could have joined me, you know."

"I had a bath earlier," she reminded him. "And anyway, I'd rather have you here – as you'll soon understand."

Trying to move as smoothly as possible, hoping desperately that this would appear enticing and not awkward, she pulled herself up to crawl toward him until she could sit up to place her hands on his bare shoulders. Kneeling on the foot of the bed while he stood before her, the librarian and music professor were directly face-to-face, as if they were the same height, and the perspective filled Marian with excitement and anticipation – tonight she would not shrink away from him, would not assume the role of shy, passive new bride. She would do as she desired; she would render him incoherent with bliss, and they would both love it.

But she knew that for that to happen, she had to seize her opportunity right now.

Looking right into his eyes, Marian laid a hand on his chest, feeling the thump of his heartbeat and the heat of his body radiating through her own skin. Then she pulled him in for a long kiss, brazenly setting the pace by parting his lips with her tongue, running her hands all over his abdomen.

Though habit told her to stop where his towel began, that she couldn't dare to touch him so intimately before he'd done the same to her, she realized that, without a single word, this was how she could let him know that tonight was going to be different.

Pulling back to give him an impish smile, she slid her hand down under the towel, and immediately his eyes slid shut and he took in a hiss of air through his teeth.

Just the feel of him in her hand was thrilling as always, hard and thick all because of her, and the husky exclamations that came from deep in his throat spurred her on to please him more and more. She wanted so badly to learn every delightful secret of his body, every response of pleasure that she could draw out of him – and tonight, she would.

"Come to bed," she urged – words she'd uttered before, but never so commandingly.

To her surprise, Harold didn't laugh, or even smile. He looked at her with desperate longing, and then he did as she said.

As she guided him up to lay flat on his back, watching with tender affection as a few of his brown curls spilled around his head on the white pillowcase, Marian almost didn't know what to do next, simply because she hadn't really expected her plan to work.

But Harold clearly had something in mind – eyes blazing with desire, he pulled her down close to him and immediately buried his face in her bosom, making Marian whimper and gasp as he teased her sensitive skin through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She was determined to remain in control this evening, but it was incredibly hard to resist the pleasure that he was giving her, especially when he tugged her low neckline down and began to tease at her nipples with his tongue, sending a rush of delicious heat through her body that gathered between her legs. Any other night, she would have melted against him and let him do whatever he pleased as long as it would feel _that_ wonderful, but she couldn't allow him to disrupt her plans now.

Though it went against every instinct that she possessed, the librarian wriggled out of her husband's embrace and pulled her nightgown back over her bosom – and while he was still stunned from her sudden retreat, she took hold of his hands, laughing playfully as she pinned them against the mattress.

"Not now," she scolded. "You'll get your chance – you've had your chance every night!"

He chuckled, his voice a little rough with desire. "So this is _your _chance, then?"

"Well, yes. But yours, too." Sliding down the bed a little, Marian straddled his hips and gazed down at the expanse of his naked body, her mind racing with all the sorts of things she could make him experience tonight if he'd only lay still. "Yours to just, um, enjoy yourself."

"I was enjoying _that_," Harold pointed out with a petulant little smirk.

"As was I!" She smiled wryly, leaning down until she could press the softness of her breasts just so against his chest – though she continued to hold his hands away from touching them. "But I'm planning for you to enjoy yourself far more than that – and you don't need to do a thing."

Before he had a chance to fire off another retort, Marian decided to silence him with actions instead of words – she suspected that he no longer be inclined to protest once she'd demonstrated the sort of thing she had in mind.

As the librarian tried to calculate her next move, her eyes lit upon the skin of his neck, and she considered how it looked in comparison to her own. Hers had been marred by subtle red marks almost constantly since their wedding night, as it was the heart of winter and Harold had no reason not to give free rein to his passionate impulses. But _his _neck was smooth and untouched – not fair, Marian decided with a rush of mischief and excitement.

Leaning into the crook of his neck, she pressed her lips against his skin, gently at first but then harder and harder, imitating the motion he'd performed countless times on her – and to her delight, she felt his pulse quicken and flutter, a groan forming deep in his throat and growing louder the harder she pressed. It was so odd being on the other side of this, and Marian realized that she didn't actually know how to ensure she left a mark, but when she pulled back to check, there was, indeed, a red mark blooming across his neck already. She regarded the mark she'd left with a sense of smug satisfaction, tracing the tips her fingers along it and then, impulsively, her tongue. It felt like a strange thing to do, but she had stranger things in mind for this evening, so she figured that she might as well get used to it now.

Breathing heavily, Harold stared back at her, his eyes darkened with ardor. "I guess I did deserve that, didn't I?" he murmured.

"You did," Marian affirmed. "Now, one love bite is hardly a fair repayment for all the ones you've given me, but it's a start. But I seem to recall you simply covering me with them before church this Sunday. I think I ought to do the same, don't you?"

Her music professor groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment as he always did when he was suddenly overwhelmed by arousal. "Yes. Yes – _please_."

The librarian was amazed at how easily she could find the right thing to say, considering how unsure of herself she'd been mere minutes before. And as she looked at Harold now, she felt the last of her nervousness disappear. She had power over him – he was trembling for her touch. His body was finally open to her at long last, and she had every intention of exploring her beautiful husband as thoroughly as he'd already explored her.

Using that first love-bite as a starting point, she began to trail kisses down his body, letting her lips follow the same patterns that she'd traced with her hands that morning. Harold continued to caress his wife as she lavished him with affection, but he no longer made any attempt to take control of the situation. He simply stroked her lovingly, starting at her hips and then moving to her waist, her shoulders, her hair as she slid downward.

Everywhere she kissed, his muscles seemed to jump to life, and she left a trail of goosebumps and shivers as she went – his stomach, especially, grew taut as she kissed across and down it. Then she slipped down a little further, and, though she initially concentrated her kisses on her thighs – she did owe him a love bite there, after all – she knew that he could no longer have any doubt as to her destination. With her lips pressed to his skin, she could feel his pulse racing as he realized what she was very likely about to do, and was rather startled when a powerful wave of arousal rushed through her body as well, making her shudder.

Yes, she had come to terms with the fact that she craved his lovemaking desperately, but _this _was something quite different. For just a moment she tried again to understand her own desires – why should she want this? why should she be so hot and bothered at the very idea of it? – but then she reminded herself of how utterly thrilled _he_ had been to taste her for the first time, and her doubts subsided at last, everything beginning to make sense. _It's just as you've been thinking. You're just like him._

Marian thought of how she felt when Harold devoted all his attention to pleasing her – how she almost felt like some being other than herself, melting, floating, falling, infinitely relaxed and yet electrified. Yes, she wanted nothing more than to make _him _feel the exact same way.

As she kissed her way closer, Harold groaned before she even touched him there, nearly shaking with anticipation – and she continued to be shocked at the degree to which she was _not _embarrassed or nervous. She began by kissing him all over just as she'd done everywhere else, but this time, she was seeking out all of his most sensitive places, wanting to learn the spots where he would writhe and gasp most of all at her touch. He was practically begging for something that he would not name, sighing her name over and over in a voice strained with lustful need – yet she wondered if Harold truly believed that she'd do what he was most aching for her to do. She couldn't blame him for suspecting that she'd stop at mere kisses and pull away to make love to him in a more familiar way. After all, before tonight, she'd not done anything _half _this bold. He probably thought that she'd already exceeded her threshold for erotic adventure for tonight.

But she hadn't, and it was immensely exciting to imagine what would be going through his mind as he realized that. Lips poised just above his erection, Marian made sure to lock eyes with him just before she took him into her mouth for the first time, wanting to see the utter shock on his face, wanting _him_ to see the impish confidence on hers.

As her mouth enveloped him at last, his reaction was immediate, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his mind with delight. His hands, which had been gently stroking her hair moments before, sank deep into her curls and tangled there, and his mouth opened and closed a few times around broken fragments of words that he seemed to be stopping himself from fully pronouncing. Knowing Harold as she did, Marian got the impression that he couldn't trust himself not to curse, and though she should have been scandalized by that realization, it only excited and aroused her more to know how far gone he already was. She absolutely loved it when he loved her in this way, so she fervently hoped that she was making this every bit as good for him.

As she tried to figure out how best to pleasure him, she realized that the act was a bit more complicated than she'd anticipated as she tried both to be consistent in her actions _and _to tease and pleasure all of those sensitive places that she'd sought out so carefully – but, for lack of knowledge, she simply tried _everything_. And, astonishingly, _everything_ turned out to be just the right thing to do, and Harold seemed even more ecstatic at her willingness to experiment and explore him.

The extraordinary intimacy of it all was amazing, watching the muscles of his abdomen and thighs contract involuntarily in response to her caresses. His experience, his confidence, none of that mattered now – he was under her control. That wild, all-consuming pleasure that was making him writhe and twist and thrust beneath her was _entirely _her doing.

Fleetingly, Marian thought that only thing that would have made this better would have been if he could have somehow pleasured her during the act, though she knew that the positions of their bodies made this quite impossible. She was desperately aroused without any hope of relief for the time being, and all she could do was to fidget in place and moan right along with him. But then that was the very nature of what she was doing, selflessness. There would be plenty of time for her pleasure later. Right now, she was going to enjoy his.

So, enjoying every moment of it, she coaxed him on to bliss, increasing her pace as his moans and gasps grew more frantic, muscles clenching and back arching beneath her... and when he fell into the bliss of release at last, she watched him with intense fondness and avid interest. From the very first time they'd made love, she'd adored watching him in those moments when he finally lost control and let pleasure overwhelm him, but she had never truly noticed all of the subtle reactions of his body until she got to observe him from this viewpoint – his thighs were shaking, fingers and toes curling tight, and it she found it incredibly erotic to know that she'd brought on every one of those reactions.

As ecstasy washed over him, Marian climbed back up the bed to join her husband, nestling against him and kissing his smiling cheek, feeling incredibly gratified that she'd finally had the chance to pursue the full extent of her desire, to make him feel the way that he'd made her feel so many times already.

"I love you," she whispered in his ear as she smoothed his curls away from his eyes as she so often had to do after they made love.

Though his eyes were still closed, Harold smiled even more brilliantly and pulled her right to him. "_Marian_," he sighed into her hair before covering her face and neck in kisses. As he gently cupped her cheek in his hand, he managed at last to open his eyes, though he had to blink them several times to dispel his daze, making his wife giggle softly.

"So, I take it that you enjoyed it?" she inquired coyly, tracing her index finger along his chest. After spending a few moments trying not to crack a smile, a giggle escaped her – of _course _he'd enjoyed it, that had been obvious enough!

He laughed, too, shaking his head in disbelief. "Seems like every day, you make me happier and happier that I married you."

It seemed like the dynamic between them had once again been changed forever, but, to Marian's immense relief, it wasn't awkward at all – she'd embraced the full extent of how utterly wanton she could be, and Harold wasn't the least bit put off. The librarian leaned in to plant another kiss on her husband's forehead. She had the thought that he might want to avoid her lips, considering where they had just been, but she was surprised and pleased when he pulled her down to kiss her fully and tenderly. After a moment, she realized that this was not all that surprising, as she had already set the precedent for allowing _him_ to do so, and the mere fact that he was volumes less prim than she was would make it unlikely that he would be bothered by such a thing – but the reassurance was still sweet.

When he pulled back to gaze at her, there was a roguish sparkle in his eye, and the librarian knew that he was about to say something specifically intended to make her blush. "Would it be indelicate of me to say that I've wanted that from the first night I ever saw you?"

Marian's eyes widened, and she couldn't contain her gasp. She'd long recognized that he'd lusted after her from the very beginning, that he'd wanted to take her to bed as soon as he'd laid eyes on her, but to think that he'd imagined experiencing _this_ with her, long before the thought of such an act would have even crossed her maiden's mind, was shocking. Yet she wasn't distressed, though maybe she should have been – on the contrary, she found it more than a little exciting to contemplate herself as the object of Harold's ardent fantasies, at least from her vantage point as a happily married woman. "Extremely indelicate – but I think we're allowed to be indelicate now, all things considered," she conceded with a slight tremble in her voice.

Harold grinned, gently cupping her blushing cheek in his hand. "Well, then I might as well continue on. You are_ good _at that, you know."

Though her cheeks flushed even more deeply, she still raised her eyebrows in skepticism. "Am I really?"

He nodded and winked. "A natural."

The librarian truly _tried_ not to be too cynical and self-deprecating when Harold complimented her in the bedroom, but this time, she simply could not see how this could be true. "We both know that I didn't really know what I was doing," she protested. "I'm sure it could have been – better..."

Pulling her close in the crook of his arm, he gently stroked her hair, smoothing out the tangles he'd created with his eager hands while she'd made love to him. "I couldn't imagine anything better. You know, it's your enthusiasm for lovemaking that amazes me most of all. It's why, as much as I wanted that, I don't think that I could ever have asked you to do it. I wanted you to _want_ it – even if that meant it didn't happen for a long while. To tell the truth, I didn't expect you to figure it out that quickly, never mind desire it..."

At that, Marian couldn't help but laugh – even after what she'd just done, her husband still took her for even more of an innocent than she'd felt like in weeks. "Figure it out? Harold, I figured it out the first night that you loved me that way – our first night in this house! Well, even before that, I already knew about that act, somewhat, but I couldn't imagine actually _wanting_ to do such a thing until then."

"But then – "

"But then I did. I wanted this. I wanted to be for you what you are for me." She grasped his hand tightly, kissing it, hoping that he could understand what she meant. "There's so much that I want, more than I can even express. I _know_ that I want you as much as you want me, so I needed to learn how to act like I do. But I admit that I couldn't imagine how to go about it, and – I thought I might do something that you would find, well, unattractive."

Harold's eyes widened with incredulity. "Oh, Marian, you don't ever need to worry about that. There's nothing you could do that wouldn't be the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced. Especially not – _especially_ not _that_," he added with a wry smile, before his expression melted into one of tender protectiveness. "_I'm_ the one who needs to be careful."

"No, don't," she urged, startling even herself a bit with the swiftness of her response. "You don't need to do anything differently for my sake."

Her husband shook his head, still unconvinced. "It would be so easy to shock or upset you..."

"Not as easy as you think, I'll wager." She pressed her cheek to his bare arm, sighing softly at the warmth and intimacy of it. "Maybe you've shocked me a time or two – but not _upset_. You've only shocked me with how perfectly wonderful it all is, and if it's all like this, I want to know everything, _anything _you can teach me."

"I suppose – I suppose I still thought that the very_ idea_ of what you just did would have shocked you." The music professor chuckled warmly, raising his eyebrows at her. "Clearly, you know how to teach yourself a thing or two, as well."

"Yes – I keep having all of these ideas about _things_ that I thought I might like, and, um, that you might like. Tonight was just the first time that I worked up the nerve to do what I've been imagining." Leaning her chin on his shoulder, she gave him a secretive little smile. "And I'm so glad that I finally did."

"You are a wonder," Harold exclaimed, gazing at her with the undisguised adoration of a man who was head-over-heels in love. "And I love you more than anything."

Though she couldn't have been happier emotionally speaking, Marian squirmed against her husband a little uncomfortably as he pulled her in close for another long kiss, all too aware of the difference in their physical states – while he was utterly relaxed in a blissful daze, she was still wound up tight and helplessly aroused. With her newfound seductive confidence, she felt like could have taken the lead to do just about anything that she wanted, but she was still at a loss for how she could convince _him_ to do something. After all, she could hardly just _ask_ him – were there even words for what she desired?

When they parted again, she gazed up at him with pleading eyes, flushed and uncertain – and, mercifully, Harold seemed to understand what she was thinking.

"Oh, darling, you've been awfully generous – treating me so well without asking a thing in return," he exclaimed as he gently stroked his thumb along her cheek. "You're the most beautiful, enchanting seductress I could ever imagine."

When Marian broke into a glowing smile tinged with just a hint of laughter, Harold's expression grew rather confused, and she quickly attempted to explain. "_Seductress_. That was exactly what I was hoping I could be tonight."

Grinning, Harold lifted himself up on one arm until _he_ was the one sitting over her and let his eyes travel up and down the length of her body, his expression growing ravenous once again. "Well, you certainly succeeded. But you must want me to _thank_ you after that... you must be _so_..."

Inching her short nightdress just a little higher up her legs _and_ tugging it down at the neckline, he was able to slip his fingers into her warm wetness at the very same moment that he took her breast in his mouth, and Marian thought that she might collapse from the sudden onslaught of sensation. With a cry of his name, she pressed insistently back against him, unable to think of anything except how badly she needed his touch.

He let out a low, triumphant laugh, never ceasing the motions of his fingers. "Mmm. You really _were_ enjoying yourself," he teased. "But even seductresses can allow themselves to be seduced, can't they?"

"_Yes_," she nearly sobbed, helping him slip her nightgown over her head, melting willingly into his embrace, as if every desire for her own pleasure that she'd had to suppress tonight had risen to the surface all at once.

As he kissed his way down his wife's stomach and she trembled with need, Harold smiled against her skin. "Good," he murmured. "You deserve it."

In mere moments, the music professor was endeavoring to render his dear little librarian as helpless with erotic bliss as he had been a few minutes before – and tonight, Marian was happier than ever to surrender to his embrace knowing that, from now on, she also knew how to make him surrender to hers.


End file.
